It's Never Really Goodbye

So. Last night, Punch, Judy, and I went out on a final patrol. It would be interesting if we had stopped someone from flooding Manayunk, or setting off an EMP in Wilkes-Barre, or even got a cat out of a tree. But it was relatively quiet, again. Sure, there was a guy in a cheap suit trying to creatively detail another man's car with a baseball bat in Germantown, but other than that... nothing.

And you know what? I liked it that way. I know I've been complaining this summer whenever things get too quiet, but I really just wanted to savor my last night in town. I wanted to spend it with my friends, and I didn't want anything to come between us.

"So," asked Punch after we'd sent Cheap Suit Guy to the hoosegow, "everything's in order?"

"Yeah," I said. "Feels strange, you know, just... leaving Atherton behind."

"You got superpowers this summer, and you're finding college weird?" cracked Judy.

"I know, I shouldn't--"

"You should, Greg. Everyone does. Hell, I did. I knew I'd be thirty minutes away from Dad, and I still felt like I was heading for Siberia. It's just part of how things go."

At the end of the night, Judy gave me a friendly hug. "Promise me you'll have fun at Williamson," she said.

"Done," I said, "as long as you keep having fun at Bryn Mawr." After that, I said "goodbye" and ported home.

Now, it's just a couple of hours until I get on the plane to Boston. It's gonna be strange living in Boston, but you know what? Home's always just one quick port away.

"Goodbye"'s just a different way of saying "see you later", after all.